Mission: Impossible
by Danja
Summary: Set prior to 'Premiere' Bruce Wayne charges Barbara with two final missions.
1. The Chosen One

Disclaimer: Birds of Prey, its characters, and concepts are the property of Warner Brothers, Tollin-Robbins Productions & DC Comics.

A/N: This is an idea that I've been playing with for some time.

This story takes place shortly after Barbara's paralysis (before she becomes Oracle). I'd often wondered how she acquired the Clocktower, the trust fund to run it, etc. I hope you enjoy MY explanation, at least. :)

****

Mission: Impossible

* * *

Barbara sat in the lavishly appointed hotel room at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, fingering the videotape that lay in her lap. A combination TV/VCR sat in the corner before her.

_Why did Bruce bring me here?_ she wondered. _What does he want with me?_

She looked down at the videotape. The words "PLAY ME" were written in black Magic Marker on the label. _Might as well, _she thought as she inserted the tape into the VCR and pressed "Play". There appeared onscreen the image of a middle-aged Bruce Wayne with salt-and-pepper hair sitting behind an oak desk.

"Hello, Barbara … Batgirl," he said, greeting her in his familiar baritone. "My old friend."

_Now that we've got _THAT _squared away._

"By the time you see this, I will have already left New Gotham."

Barbara picked up a remote control that was lying on top of the TV, pushed a button, paused the tape, and stared at the screen in disbelief. _Bruce Wayne leaving New Gotham? _she thought. _I always thought the two were inseparable. _She pushed another button and resumed the tape.

"I'm old," said Bruce. "I can't go on." Bruce paused. "That knee replacement two years ago should've told me something … but it didn't."

_You always were a stubborn bastard,_ Barbara thought with a smile.

"Like it or not, this city needs a hero … and I can't do it anymore," Bruce continued. "I couldn't protect you … or Selina."

Barbara paused the tape. "Dear God … you can't be everywhere at once!" she yelled at the screen. She resumed the tape.

"I'm charging you with one … actually, two … final missions," said Bruce. "First, I want you to complete … my work."

Barbara paused the tape and looked down at her now-useless legs. _You've gotta be kidding, _she thought. _How can I kick ass when I can't even … kick? _She resumed the tape.

"I know what you're thinking," said Bruce. "I'm fully aware of your … disability." Bruce paused. "You may recruit as many assistants as necessary to carry out this task."

_"Recruit an assistant,"_ Barbara thought wryly. _Easiest thing in the world. Just place an ad in the New Gotham Gazette: "Help Wanted: Superhero. Must be willing to dodge bullets and work long hours for no pay."_

"Second," said Bruce. "I want you to take care of my daughter."

Barbara paused the tape and stared slack-jawed at the screen. _Now he's_ REALLY _lost it,_ she thought. _I, Barbara Gordon … a mother? _She resumed the tape and stared at the screen in stunned silence as Bruce droned on … something about a Clocktower … and Alfred. _Me … raise Helena? I'd seen the kid off-and-on a few times since she was young (I'm still trying to figure out whatever possessed her mother to even let me come _NEAR _her) but I never dreamed I'd be asked to _RAISE_ her._

Bruce signed off the tape by saying, "Good luck, Barbara … and thank you."

Barbara pressed a button on the remote and switched off the VCR. _What will I do now?_


	2. Clocktower

****

Chapter Two

A/N: Since you all requested it, here's Mission: Impossible, Chapter Two … ;)

* * *

"We have arrived, Miss Barbara," said Alfred.

Barbara stared up at the looming Clocktower from the passenger seat of the Hummer. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Home," Alfred replied.

Barbara stared at Alfred in puzzlement. "_THIS_ is an office building…"

"Correction, Miss Barbara … it _WAS_ an office building," said Alfred. "Master Bruce has arranged for an entire floor of this building to be converted into living quarters for you and your … staff."

"I see," said Barbara. "But why this building? Why this building in particular?"

"This was once the headquarters of Wayne Enterprises," said Alfred. "It seems that they outgrew the space some time ago." Alfred paused. "As for why Master Bruce has selected this particular building to be your base of operations, I cannot say."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa … back up," interjected Barbara. "Bruce wants me to live and _WORK_ out of this building?"

"Master Bruce wishes for you to conduct _HIS_ work out of this building, yes."

Barbara closed her eyes, shook her head, and gave a wry smile. "Poor Lucious," she said. "All that lost rent." Barbara paused. "Poor guy must've had a stroke when Bruce told him his plans for the place."

"I'm afraid I wasn't present when that conversation took place, Miss Barbara."

"That's all right," Barbara said softly.

"Shall we go inside?" said Alfred.

* * *

Barbara and Alfred stood in front of the elevator and took in the scene that lay before them. The detritus of construction -- sawdust, two-by-fours, sawhorses, etc. -- lay scattered about the room. The massive gears of the clock were located at the far end of the room.

"What's that?" asked Barbara as she pointed out the gears.

"That would be the clock mechanism, Miss Barbara," Alfred replied.

"Why are we here … and why all the construction?"

"It is Master Bruce's intent that this facility … serve as your primary base of operations."

_He wants me to work out of a clock, _Barbara thought wryly. "Dare I ask why he chose this particular facility for me?" Barbara asked. "It's certainly not one that _I_ would've chosen."

"If I may be so blunt as to say this, Miss Barbara … I believe that was the whole point," Alfred replied. "It is most certainly the last place anyone would expect to find the headquarters of a … vigilante … crimefighting operation."

_There _IS_ a certain logic in that statement, _Barbara thought.

"Miss Barbara, I was wondering if you would permit me to ask a … personal question … of you."

"Alfred … we've been friends for years!" Barbara exclaimed. "You may ask anything of me that you wish."

"Thank you, Miss Barbara," Alfred replied. "I am curious … what led you to become a schoolteacher?" Alfred paused. "Master Bruce has informed me that you used to be an engineer."

Barbara let out a breath. "Before I was a schoolteacher, I was a weapons designer … for a defense contractor," said Barbara. "I made a career out of developing new ways to kill people as quickly and efficiently as possible." Barbara paused. "After having come so close to death myself, I guess I just lost the desire … to dish it out to other people."

"That's certainly understandable," said Alfred.

"The pay's lousy, I know … at least, it's not anywhere _NEAR_ what I _WAS_ making," said Barbara. "But at the same time, there's more to life than money." Barbara paused. "Bruce taught me that. Without a higher purpose in life … without a reason to get up in the morning … life isn't worth living." Barbara smiled. "…And all the money in the world won't make it so," she said quietly.

"Very true," said Alfred. Without missing a beat, he then turned to Barbara and asked, "Do you wish to see your apartment?"


	3. Through The Looking Glass

****

Chapter Three

* * *

_Encrypted Journal Entry -- Barbara Gordon_

_June 4th_

_Am I in the Twilight Zone … or am I just nuts?_

_First, Bruce appoints me to "complete his work" (God only knows how) … now, he expects me to live in a clock (A wheelchair-accessible clock, yes … but a clock nonetheless). To top it all off, he wants me to take care of his daughter!_

_What could Bruce see in me … Barbara Gordon … erstwhile hellraiser? What could_ I _have to offer Helena … or any other teenager, for that matter?_

_Batgirl appeared to me last night in my sleep. She gave me a new name: "Oracle". She told me that she "needed me"._

_"Oracle" … I must admit that it _DOES_ have a nice ring to it. Classical … and yet, mysterious. It's not something that _I_ would've chosen, though._

* * *

The letter came via Certified Mail:

__

Ms. Barbara Gordon

One Wayne Center

New Gotham City, 40021

Dear Ms. Gordon:

You are hereby named the legal guardian of one Helena Kyle, daughter of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne. Helena and a social worker will make a site visit to your residence on June 11th at 2 p.m. Since Helena will be remanded to your custody at that time, your presence will be required.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Sincerely yours,

Philip Donovan

District 4 Supervisor

Department of Children and Family Services

New Gotham Section

_Well, I guess that's that, _Barbara thought as she looked at the letter. _Like it or not, I'm going to be a mother._


	4. The Arrival

****

Chapter Four

A/N: Yet another chapter in the story that I once vowed was not going to last more than one chapter. :O

* * *

Several weeks had gone by since Barbara and Alfred had last visited the Clocktower. Barbara was now sitting at her computer in the midst of a high-tech nerve center, the massive gears of the clock sat at the end of the hall. She began the process of getting to know Helena's past by hacking into the New Gotham PD computer and running a criminal background search on her. _Kid's a hellraiser, _Barbara thought as she looked at the file. _Kid's got a rap sheet a mile long_. _Priors for shoplifting, underage drinking, truancy, running away. _Barbara shook her head in bewilderment. _She didn't used to be this way … her mother's death must've really hit her hard. _She then hacked into the school system's computer and looked up her educational records. _Decent student … when she's _THERE. _So help me, that's going to change._

* * *

"SIT UP STRAIGHT!" barked Ms. Lockwood at Helena. Helena sat sulking in the passenger seat of Ms. Lockwood's car with her arms folded across her chest and an angry faraway look in her eyes.

Ms. Lockwood drove. She was a rotund woman in her late forties with a double chin. Her salt-and-pepper hair was topped off today by a black pillbox hat.

"_BITE ME!_" Helena shot back at Ms. Lockwood. As far as she was concerned, this was but another foster placement -- another foster placement that was certain not to work out.

Ms. Lockwood stopped the car, struck Helena on the chest with the bottom of her fist, and slammed her backwards into her seat. "You better not talk that way around Miss Gordon," said Ms. Lockwood as she waved a menacing index finger in Helena's face.

_She'll be just like the rest of em, _Helena thought. _She'll quit when the going gets rough._

* * *

The car pulled up in front of the Clocktower. As Helena and Ms. Lockwood (who was carrying a black duffel bag in one hand and a black leather briefcase in the other) got out, the sight of Alfred Pennyworth -- in black morning coat, black slacks, and starched white linen shirt -- standing at the door greeted them.

"You are the social worker, I presume?" said Alfred to Ms. Lockwood.

"Yes," Ms. Lockwood replied. "And you are…?"

"I'm Alfred Pennyworth," Alfred replied. "I am the butler."

_A butler … on a schoolteacher's salary! _Ms. Lockwood thought acidly. _What is wrong with this picture? _"I'm Eleanor Lockwood," she said as she extended a hand in greeting.

Alfred shook Ms. Lockwood's hand. "The pleasure is all mine." Alfred paused. "Miss Gordon is expecting both of you upstairs."


	5. The Meeting

****

Chapter Five

* * *

The elevator door opened. Alfred led Helena and Ms. Lockwood into a tastefully appointed living room.

Alfred set the black duffel bag and briefcase next to an antique-looking settee upholstered in crushed red velvet. "Please … do sit down," said Alfred as he gestured towards the settee. Helena and Ms. Lockwood each sat down. "Would you care for any refreshments? We have coffee, tea, milk, ice water…"

"Just ice water for me, thanks," said Ms. Lockwood. Turning to Helena, she then growled, "Want anything?"

"Do you have any iced tea?" Helena asked shyly.

"I believe that can be arranged," Alfred replied cheerfully. "Sweetened or unsweetened?"

"Sweetened, please."

"Very good," said Alfred. "I will inform Miss Gordon that you are here." With that, he turned and left.

"You want my opinion?" asked Ms. Lockwood after Alfred had left the room.

"Not really," Helena shot back.

"This is a mistake. People…" Ms. Lockwood struggled with the word. "Like you should be locked up forever."

"Locked up … for what? Misdemeanors?"

"You know what I mean," said Ms. Lockwood. "Locked away … from _normal_ people."

_"Normal people" … like you? _Helena thought wryly.

"You must be the social worker," said a voice -- Barbara's -- from behind them. Barbara wheeled herself to a spot directly across from Helena and Ms. Lockwood. A small wooden coffee table sat between the group. "I'm Barbara Gordon," she said as she extended a hand in greeting.

Helena gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth in horror at the sight of Barbara in her wheelchair. _God,_ she thought. _What happened to_ YOU?

"I'm Eleanor Lockwood…" Ms. Lockwood replied as she shook Barbara's hand. "And this … is Helena," she said as she made the introductions.

"I already know her."

"You do?"

Barbara nodded. "I knew her mother," she said. "I used to baby-sit her when she was younger."

Alfred entered the room carrying the refreshments -- a glass of ice water, a glass of ice tea, and a cup of hot tea for Barbara -- on a silver tray. He set the tray down upon the coffee table.

"Thank you, Alfred," said Barbara, acknowledging the gesture. That said, he turned and left the room.

"How is it that you can afford a butler on a schoolteacher's salary?" asked Ms. Lockwood as she picked up the glass of ice water.

"He's not mine," Barbara replied as she picked up the teacup and saucer.

"He isn't…"

"No … and frankly, that is not a matter I wish to discuss at this time," Barbara said flatly, closing the topic. "Now," said Barbara as she changed the subject. "I believe we're here to discuss Helena."

"Personally, I think this is a mistake," said Ms. Lockwood.

"Why?"

"_WHY?_" asked Ms. Lockwood sarcastically. "I'll tell you why. This is not … repeat, _NOT_ … someone who belongs in polite society."

"Why? What has she done?" asked Barbara, feigning innocence.

Ms. Lockwood snorted. "What _HASN'T_ she done? For starters, she's got a rap sheet the size of the New Gotham phone book!"

"I_ really_ think you're exaggerating," said Barbara.

"Oh, really?" Ms. Lockwood countered. "She's done time for shoplifting, truancy, underage drinking…"

"Those are all misdemeanors, if I'm not mistaken."

Ms. Lockwood leaned close to Barbara, dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, and said, "She escaped from _Walton.._."

_Walton Juvenile Detention Center … I've heard of the place, _Barbara thought. _A maximum-security facility. That's where the state sends its worst juvenile offenders -- the fighters, the escape risks, what-have-you. The kids the system can't control. _

"How did she escape?" Barbara asked. "I've always heard the place was airtight."

"Here's where it gets weird," said Ms. Lockwood. "First, she jumped from the roof of her cell block -- a _SIX-STORY_ cell block, I might add. She lands on her feet without getting hurt! Not even so much as a sprained ankle! She then ran across the yard and jumped over a ten-foot fence topped with razor wire. All without a scratch, mind you."

"Fascinating."

"They finally caught her about four miles away from the place."

Barbara glanced over at Helena. _She's right about one thing, _she thought as she reflected on Ms. Lockwood's testimony. _The average person can't do what Helena did. At the same time, that doesn't necessarily mean she needs to be locked away._

"Sure you wanna do this?" asked Ms. Lockwood.

"I have experience dealing with … the criminal element," Barbara replied cryptically

"You speak as someone who's worked in law enforcement."

"You … might say that."

"Were you ever a cop? It's not on your record."

"No."

Helena cast up-and-down glances at Barbara's petite-yet-toned frame. _Worked in law enforcement … but never a cop, _she thought. _She knew my mother. I wonder … did she know my father? Was she … ever one of … _THEM?

Ms. Lockwood picked up the briefcase, opened it, took out some papers and a pen, and shut the briefcase. "Here are the final transfer-of-custody papers," she said as handed the paper and pen over to Barbara. She shook her head in bemusement and said, "You are a most mysterious woman, Miss Gordon." She paused. "I'm beginning to think that you and Helena are perfectly matched."


	6. Helena

****

Chapter Six

* * *

"What do ya' wanna do now?" asked Helena after Ms. Lockwood had left. Helena was pacing like a caged animal behind the settee. Barbara sat in her chair directly across from Helena.

"For now, I'd like to talk to you," Barbara replied.

"No one 'talks' to me," said Helena bitterly, framing the word "talks" with her index and middle fingers. "They scream at me, yell at me, cuss at me … they never, _EVER_ 'talk' to me."

"Then permit me to be the first," said Barbara calmly. "Sit down a moment," she said as she gestured towards the settee.

Helena stopped pacing and sat down. "What do ya' wanna talk about?" she asked.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Why are you committing these crimes?"

"I _HATE_ being confined!" Helena ejaculated. "I _ESPECIALLY_ hate being confined with people who think I'm a freak … and who let me know it every chance they get!"

"I'm assuming that's why you ran away."

"Yeah," said Helena quietly.

"Why'd you steal?"

"I was on the street … I was hungry," said Helena. "I had to eat. An apple here, a pear there … you know, something to feed my face." Helena sighed. "I guess it's inevitable. I mean, my mother was a crook." She paused. "Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?"

"I don't believe that," said Barbara softly. "Genes don't make criminals … choices do. Your mother, Joker, Penguin, Riddler, Two-Face … they did what they did because they made the decision to do so. Genetics had nothing to do with it." Barbara paused. "If someone as hardened as your mother can walk away from a life of crime, so can you."

"How do you know about those guys?" Helena asked.

Barbara smacked her lips. _Oh, Lord, _she thought. "Are you aware that your father had a … 'secret life'? "

"You mean Batman?" Helena asked. "Yeah … so?"

"There's something … about me … you must know," she said, measuring her words carefully. "I … was once … a superhero. I fought alongside your father under the name 'Batgirl'. "

"That would explain the remark about you 'working in law enforcement'…"

"…Without being a cop."

"What happened to you?" asked Helena, gesturing at Barbara's wheelchair.

"I was shot by a madman who called himself 'The Joker'," said Barbara. "I was shot on the same night that your mother was … killed."

"God," exclaimed Helena. "I'm so sorry…"

* * *

Later that night, Helena lay awake in her bunk in the Clocktower, silently arguing with herself.

__

You can trust her … she's not like the others.

I have to know.

She doesn't appear to have the others' attitude problem. If anything, she seems to be a bit of a maverick.

As much as this hurts, this is something I have to do. I have to be sure. I have to know.


	7. The Water Tower

****

Chapter Seven

* * *

9:30 p.m.

Helena was supposed to be home from the park by nine … and Barbara was getting worried. A few weeks had gone by since Helena had moved into the Clocktower and Barbara had given her permission to go to the old water tower in Central Park -- provided she was home by nine.

"Where is she?" Barbara wondered aloud to herself. "Did she run away? Did I do something to provoke her?"

"If you will permit me to be forward for a moment, Miss Barbara, you would do well to remember that you are dealing with someone who has suffered abuse at the hands of her foster parents in the past," said Alfred.

"That's true," said Barbara softly.

"If this custodial arrangement is to succeed, you must first gain Helena's trust. I would probably venture to say that at this point in time, she is in all likelihood somewhat wary of … authority figures."

_In other words, people such as myself, _Barbara thought. "I'm going out there."

* * *

The water tower in Central Park gave the appearance of a large white granite lighthouse -- _sans_ light -- sitting on dry land.

Helena and Mike -- an old boyfriend from her days on the street -- were holding and caressing each other in a shadowy part of the lighthouse.

Mike was seventeen and a convicted car thief. He was tall, athletic-looking, had oily dark-brown hair, and was wearing a dirty navy blue fleece jacket. "C'mon, baby," he said -- on an Ecstasy-fueled high -- as he groped Helena. "Gimme some."

"_GET … OFF ME!_" screamed Helena as she shoved Mike away. "What's with you?!"

Mike reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a couple of Ecstasy tablets. "Want some?" he said, offering them to Helena.

"Mike, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not into that shit."

* * *

From a distance -- her presence concealed by the shadows -- Barbara watched the shoving match at the water tower, unseen by either Helena or Mike. She was clad almost completely head-to-toe in black: black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, black gloves, and heavy black tactical boots. Crimefighter instincts told her to approach with caution.

She produced a small matte-black metal cylinder out of the back of her pants. She tapped a button on the end of the cylinder; a green indicator light glowed near the tip. _Armed … good, _she thought.

* * *

"_LEMME GO!_" Helena screamed as Mike grabbed her wrists and held her against the wall.

"Not until you give me what I want!" Mike shouted.

"HEY!" cried a third voice -- Barbara's -- from the darkness. "What's going on?" Before Mike could react, she raised a small metal flashlight above her head and shined it in his and Helena's faces -- her right hand concealing the small matte-black metal cylinder with the glowing green indicator light in her lap.

Mike winced in the light. "Who _ARE_ you?" he cried.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Barbara replied.

"Foster mother," Helena whispered in Mike's ear.

Before Barbara could react, Mike wrapped his arm around Helena's neck, grabbed her chin, pulled a switchblade out of the back of his pants, and held it against Helena's throat.

"Drop the knife!" Barbara commanded, Batgirl now taking over. "Drop the knife _NOW!_"

"Shut that light off!" Mike cried. "Shut it off or I slit her throat!"

Unseen by Mike, Barbara pressed a second button on the black cylinder that lay concealed in her lap. As she pressed it, Mike dropped the knife, released his grip on Helena, and suddenly dropped to his knees -- screaming and clutching his stomach in agony. Helena broke free and ran for cover.

"_HELENA, GET DOWN!_" Barbara commanded as she kept the black cylinder trained on Mike. Helena dropped to the ground.

Satisfied that Mike was now thoroughly subdued, Barbara released the trigger. "Want some more?" Barbara taunted. In response, Mike got up and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. _Guess not, _Barbara thought. She then wheeled over to Helena.

"You OK?" she asked as she put her hand on Helena's shoulder and shined the light in her face.

"Yeah … I think so," Helena replied. "What _WAS_ that thing?" she asked, pointing towards the black cylinder.

"This?" said Barbara as she held up the cylinder. "A little gadget I like to call 'Shockwave'." Barbara paused. "Uses ultra-low-frequency sound waves … give you the worst case of indigestion you've ever had," she said proudly. She looked down at Helena -- tears were streaming down her face. "Why are you crying?"

"You saved my life," sobbed Helena. "You're the first one who came after me … first one who gave a damn about me."

"Really…" Barbara reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulled out a hankie, and gave it to Helena.

Helena accepted the hankie from Barbara and wiped her eyes. "The others … they'd send me back the first chance they got."

"I'm not going to send you back."

"Really?"

"I've made a career out of busting murderers, thieves, and megalomaniacal dictators hell-bent on world domination." Barbara paused. "I think I can handle a teenager," she said with a grin. She then gently stroked Helena's shoulder. "C'mon … let's go home."


	8. Epilogue

****

Chapter Eight

"Whatcha' doin'?" said Helena. A few days had now passed since the incident at the water tower. Barbara was sitting and typing at her computer.

"I'm working on a database program … something I've decided to call Delphi," said Barbara.

"What does it do?"

Barbara turned around to face Helena. "Your father has appointed me … to complete … his work," she said. "Delphi is a part of it."

"Wayne Enterprises?"

"I meant his … _OTHER_ … work."

"Ooh," said Helena in understanding. _Batman. _"Is there anything _I_ can do?"

"I don't know what form this is going to take," said Barbara. "This has been more-or-less … thrust upon me."

"I figured maybe you could use an assistant," said Helena. "You know … someone with a … um, working pair of legs."

"I'm not going to lie to you," said Barbara solemnly. "Mine -- and your father's -- is a hard, brutal business." Barbara paused. "It's no place for amateurs, dilettantes, or the faint of heart." Barbara paused once more. "Many have died … doing what we did," she said softly.

"Look … I owe you one…"

"Don't do this for me," said Barbara, cutting Helena off. "Don't do this for your father." Barbara paused. "Do it for yourself. Do it for your own reasons. Ultimately, _THAT'S _what's going to keep you going over the long haul."

Helena glanced around nervously and shuffled her feet in place. "I've done some bad things," she said. "Some things I'm not proud of."

"They're relatively minor…"

"For most people, yeah … but then again, most people don't have a crook for a mother." Helena paused. "Have you any idea what it's like to be me?" she said bitterly. "To have to go to court hearing the snickers and the giggles and the jokes about 'the apple not falling far from the tree'? " Helena paused again. "I don't wanna go through life being known as the daughter of a crook."

"We work in secrecy … in the shadows," said Barbara. "If you're looking for glory, you've picked the wrong line of work."

"If nothing else, _I'LL_ have the satisfaction of making the world a better place," said Helena. "As I said, I've done some bad things. I wanna put `em right."

Barbara smiled. "I'll definitely keep you in mind," she said.

THE BEGINNING…


End file.
